


A Certain Family's Tea Party

by Akihaa



Category: Fatal Twelve (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, references to self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akihaa/pseuds/Akihaa
Summary: I love cake, and I love you too.
Relationships: Miharu Mishima/Shishimai Rinka (Established)
Kudos: 2





	A Certain Family's Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Kururingo's "A Certain Family's Tea Party"

_“What a bitter dream.”_

Such is Miharu’s first thought when she wakes. She stares up at the patternless, white ceiling of her room streaked with moonlight.

There was a time when she didn’t dream at all. Or rather, the space between consciousness and slumber had always been dominated by the grating laughter of a girl clad in white. But there was no longer any conductor to orchestrate her dreams. They roamed freely now, weaving incomprehensible scenarios together using familiar faces as its actors.

They were free.

And yet, scenes of bloodstained hands and her lover’s tearstained face always comes to haunt her.

_Ah..._

In all the branching fates of this world, just how many of them carry a tombstone engraved with her name, Miharu wonders.

She laughs, closes her eyes, and breathes in. Sweat runs down her cheek, and she breathes out.

On her phone, a song she has on loop quietly repeats, and repeats, and repeats.

* * *

“S-So, Miharu-senpai...what did you call me out here for?”

Naomi sits across from Miharu, who takes a sip of her tea.

Bitter.

She sets the cup down on the saucer.

“No reason. It’s rare for us to spend time together alone, isn’t it?” Miharu smiles, but doesn’t meet Naomi’s eyes.

“It...it is, yes…” Naomi hesitantly brings her own cup to her lips, but jerks her head back when she touches the scalding liquid.

The café, which was not the one they were used to, seemed to politely ignore the awkward air emanating from the two girls. In between them, an untouched slice of apricot cake.

In their silence, Miharu takes out three sugar cubes from a glass and drops them into her cup.

“That’s rare of you, Miharu-senpai.”

“Hm?”

“I mean...you usually don’t put sugar in your coffee, so…” The bookworm fidgets her hands together. Miharu knows the reason why.

“Yes, I suppose I don’t. I’m not sure myself either.” She stirs the tea with a silver spoon, and the cubes quickly dissolve into transparent crystals. “I guess I just don’t feel like having something bitter today.” Miharu laughs, then puts the cup to her lips.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

“How so?”

“I’m not sure how to word it, but...you just seem like you’re looking for something.”

Miharu lifts her gaze and looks into Naomi’s eyes.

“Is that so? Not the fact that I’m no longer constantly at your throat?”

“I-I mean…! Yes, there’s that too, but—“ Naomi flushes and flails, and Miharu laughs.

“I know. I’m joking, Naomi. Don’t worry. There’s no one here to hurt you anymore. Relax.” Though the words come from Miharu’s mouth for Naomi’s sake, the two know that she says it for her own just as much as Naomi’s. “Hey, why don’t you try the cake? I ordered it for you, you know.”

“R-really!?” Naomi’s eyes light up. “Then, here I go…!”

Miharu rests her chin in her hand while Naomi reaches out to stab the soft cake with her fork. Together with the blindingly white decor and furniture of the café, Naomi fits in perfectly well along with the dusty morning light compared to herself.

If Miharu had told a younger version of her that she would be enjoying her time together with someone who indirectly caused her to die, she would scoff in her face. While there was technicality of Naomi’s role in her death, the truth still remained in Miharu’s own bitterness and guilt.

Perhaps the most unbelievable thing of all, was that the girl whom she needlessly hurt in wanton hatred would be able to forgive her.

As she watches Naomi smile with delight as she bites down on the cake, she comes to understand, just a bit closer, the affection which her lover holds for the girl in front of her.

“Hey, Naomi.”

“Hm?”

“Do you hate me?”

Naomi’s brow furrows, and she swallows. Though Miharu was often seen smiling, those whom she kept close would learn when that smile was used to keep others away.

Without words, Naomi reaches out her hand and gently pats Miharu’s head.

* * *

_“The train to Shinjuku station…”_

Miharu sits on a station bench with her phone clasped between her hands. The song that it plays quietly loops, warding off irrelevant buzzing voices. She looks down at her shoes and taps them together.

“Boo!”

A girl jumps into her vision, and the bud in her left ear is snatched away. Miharu doesn’t need to react. She already knows who this girl with no sense of personal space is. Mao leans down to put the speaker against her own ear, her hair nearly tickling Miharu’s nose, then whines when the melody resounds.

“This song again? I think you must’ve broken a world record by now.”

She smirks, then returns the bud into Miharu’s left ear.

* * *

“Café hopping or something? Naomi told me you brought her to one too.”

“Something like that.”

Mao helps herself to the lemon poundcake while Miharu takes a sip of her tea.

Bitter.

“Maaan, can you believe we graduate high school this year? Now it’s all gonna be ‘you better start thinking about your future’ and crap. Boooring.” Mao yawns and slumps in her chair.

“Not looking forward to the future, Mao?”

“Nah. Bein’ an adult looks like it sucks.” She shrugs, but her shoulders freeze when something clicks in her head. “But, I guess things are a bit different for you huh, Miharun?”

“Always have been.”

“Thought so. Well, not like either of us can avoid it, whether we want to or not.”

Miharu picks up four sugar cubes and dumps them into her cup.

“Oh? Miharun putting sugar in her drink? Looks like today’s a special day. Me too, please.” Mao sticks her teacup in front of Miharu expectantly, but is only met with the cold metal of the tongs on her hand.

“Maid service is 2000 yen an hour.”

“Do you really get paid that much!?”

“I can only dream.”

Mao sighs, then picks the tongs up to rob the sugar container of nearly half of its contents.

“You’ll get sick if you always put so much sugar.”

“As a wise woman once said, you only live once. The wise woman is me.”

While it was true for most people, Miharu couldn’t help but think it ironic. If only Mao had known that the girl in front of her already cheated death twice in this world, then she could have made a witty joke about it.

But Mao knew not of it, even though Miharu can still remember the sea of worry in her eyes during the turmoil of yesteryear. Mao was that kind of girl. She would worry about her friends, but would never pry if she knew things were sensitive. Miharu wonders what kind of suffering that was like: to care so much for people, but also to be powerless to help aside from just existing.

“Mao.”

“What’s up?”

“Sorry.”

It was an apology for many things. For making her worry. For having someone like herself for a friend. For deceiving her.

Amber sunlight bounces against Mao's hair as she smiles.

“You’re forgiven. Just call me Master Mao from now on and we’ll call it even.”

Miharu laughs. She knew perfectly well that Mao would respond with such nonchalance, but still mean it full heartedly. Little seems to have changed in their friendship of the past 4 years. How many more would it be before Mao would come to tire of her self-deprecation?

“Mao.”

“What now?”

“Do you hate me?”

Mao looks at Miharu, then picks up her sugar-with-tea drink and snickers.

* * *

Silence has become the norm between the two during times like this. While Rinka rests her weight against Miharu’s arm, a song loops endlessly on her phone, letting it fill the space in her dark room instead.

Miharu picks up the cup of coffee from the coffee table and drinks up the last dregs.

Bitter.

But it was perfect.

The cup softly clatters back on the table beside a plate that once had a blueberry tart, and Rinka lowers her head into Miharu’s lap.

How many days were left until they could share these moments the rest of their lives? Miharu gently strokes a hand through Rinka’s hair as traces of twilight dance on their skin. With no one around to lay a curse of fate on their heads, the two can breathe easy.

As she peers down at her lover’s resting face, she wonders what kind of dreams she has at night when she wasn’t at her side. Surely, windows of different fates haunt her as well. In how many of them carry a tombstone engraved with their names?

In how many of them does Miharu leave her behind?

Rinka had once told her that she believed Miharu was strong. In order to fulfill that belief, Miharu did whatever it took to make sure Rinka could still believe in that. For her sake. But the faded lines on her wrist taunt her still.

The truth of her weakness taunts her, still. Surely, Rinka has realized it by now, as the days pass, and the walls between them dangerously peel away one by one.

Could she still say that she loves her, even if she’s no longer the woman she once thought she was?

_I'm sorry. You deserve someone better than me._

Something warm drips onto Rinka’s cheek. She opens her eyes and turns her head to peer up at Miharu.

“It’s okay.”

With those two words, she reaches up and brushes a hand against her cheek. Was there no end to her kindness? Miharu can only cradle Rinka closer as warmth continues to well in her eyes.

“Hey, Rinka…”

Rinka holds her breath and blinks up at her at the sound of her name.

“Do you hate me?”

Through the remnants of twilight, Rinka seems to sigh in relief, and she smiles.

* * *

“Goodbye, Amecha High!! You will not be missed.” Mao throws up her hands into the air in celebration of the completion of entrance exams.

“Don’t be so sure, Mao. That depends if you passed any or not.”

“Hey now, I still have brain cells. I just selectively choose when I want to use them. It’s called being efficient.”

Naomi laughs at Miharu and Mao’s bickering while Rinka looks genuinely concerned.

“Is it weird that I felt the exams were a little too easy? I mean, I spent a lot of time together with Miharu and Naomi to study, but I imagined it would be harder than that. I must have been doing something wrong if it was easy, right…??”

“It just means your hard work paid off, Rinka-senpai!”

As Miharu enjoys the comfortable chatter, she picks out six sugar cubes from a container and drops them into her coffee. Naomi can only gasp in horror as she watches.

“M-Miharu-senpai! That’s way too much sugar! It’s bad for your health!”

“What are you talking about, Naorin? That’s still less than what I put!”

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re you. This is Miharu we’re talking about, you know!?”

“Oof, wasted…!”

_What a lively family._

Such is Miharu’s first thought as the four of them continue their talk of nothings, savoring one another’s company.

Genuinely happy, Miharu laughed.


End file.
